


What It's Become

by pimpmypaws



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pimpmypaws/pseuds/pimpmypaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When this first started, when they first fell into bed together, although if John remembers correctly they actually fell into a wall and then onto the floor, it had been serious, but that had all changed somewhere along the line and here they are, laughing and rocking together as if they fully intend to have all the time in the world to devote to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What It's Become

“Stop, stop – I can’t – my leg…”

Sherlock ceases his movement, pausing buried fully in John. He leans heavily over John’s back, panting in his ear. His knees are braced inside of John’s and he can feel the tightness in John’s thigh against his own.

“It’s psychosomatic,” he says, voice not nearly as calm as he’d intended.

“Well it feels bloody real,” John shoots back. He shifts uncomfortably under Sherlock’s weight. “I’m not kidding. I can’t stay in this position.”

He gasps as Sherlock eases himself out and he rolls onto his side, rubbing at his thigh to relieve the burn there. Sherlock continues to crouch over him, crowding into his space. It doesn’t feel like crowding when Sherlock does it, though. They are always in each other’s space and certainly this is a more appropriate time for it than any other. Sherlock’s hands run over John’s body as he settles on the bed pressing up against John’s back. 

“Better?” Sherlock’s voice rumbles in John’s ear.

John nods tightly and nudges his body back against Sherlock. “Keep going,” he says.

Sherlock lifts John’s leg carefully back, spooning up behind him and pushing back in. John’s groans are no longer those of pain as his hips shift with the movements of Sherlock against – within – him. He reaches back with one hand to grip Sherlock’s thigh, not digging in with his nails but grounding himself.

They rock together slowly, filling the room with their breathy moans and the soft sound of skin against bed sheets. Heat pools between their bodies, making John hyperaware of every point at which they touch. His back burns against Sherlock’s smooth chest and the arm that grips around his stomach sends his excited muscles trembling. The pace is slow, languid, and for a brief moment John worries that Sherlock thinks his body is fragile after the pain.

“You can—“ He gasps as the hand on his stomach reaches for his cock. “Please.”

“No,” Sherlock’s voice is so deep John imagines he can feel the gravel in it.

John reaches back further, moving his hand from Sherlock’s thigh to his arse and using it to pull the other’s man hips harder into his own. 

“Stop.”

John doesn’t move his hand.

“I stopped when you said stop.”

With a roll of his eyes, John moves his hand back to Sherlock’s thigh. The slow pace continues, but Sherlock thrusts harder, deeper, pushing John into his fist. 

John can feel Sherlock’s lips against his neck, tongue flicking out to tease at the back of his ear. He groans, trapped against Sherlock’s body and wanting more. He twists his head around, trying to capture Sherlock’s mouth, kissing him frantically when Sherlock leans into him. 

When they separate for breath John sighs heavily, leaning his back against Sherlock. A smile creeps across his face and his hand dropped to cover Sherlock’s, where it is still stroking his cock slowly.

“You taste like…” John starts, before being interrupted.

“If you say strawberries again or some other romantic nonsense, this is over,” Sherlock warns, thrusting harder.

“…like saliva,” John finishes.

That earns a chuckle from Sherlock. John can feel the grin against the back of his neck and he can’t help but laugh, too. 

When this first started, when they first fell into bed together, although if John remembers correctly they actually fell into a wall and then onto the floor, it had been serious. They had both been desperate, fucking to prove a point. There was no laughter, just grunting and growling, biting and hurried thrusts. Breaking down giggling would have been mortifying, at least for John. He still can’t fathom what that emotion would even look like on Sherlock. 

But that had all changed somewhere along the line and here they are, laughing and rocking together as if they fully intend to have all the time in the world to devote to this. 

Their bodies shake with laughter, breaking down the rhythm they’d established until all movement ceases entirely. Sherlock’s face presses into John’s shoulder as he tries unsuccessfully to stifle the mood-killing giggles, his hand moving to grip John’s waist. God, John’s comment hadn’t been that funny. 

Composure returns to John first, who drags Sherlock’s hand back to his cock. “Come on, then,” he says. “Properly this time.”

It doesn’t take long after that. Sherlock resumes stroking John, now obviously working towards a goal. He thrusts only shallowly, just enough to push John’s cock into his hand. John grunts and curls forward into himself slightly as he comes, coating Sherlock’s hand and his own stomach.

Sherlock gives him a moment to ride it out before pulling John’s leg back further and beginning to thrust harder. John moans and struggles slightly against him, but Sherlock just fucks into him with intent. Just as John’s cries are starting to verge on unhappy, Sherlock stiffens and relaxes. He drapes his arm back over John’s stomach, holding him tightly against his chest.

His breath huffs warmly against John’s neck. “Love fucking you after you’ve come,” he murmurs.

John sighs happily, wincing only slightly as Sherlock pulls out, and turns onto his other side to face Sherlock. “I just love you,” he says. The first time he said it he’d almost been embarrassed, but now he looks straight into Sherlock’s eyes. He's pleased to see the sentiment echoed there.


End file.
